


Smoke Dreams

by candy_and_writing



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22645231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candy_and_writing/pseuds/candy_and_writing
Summary: You come home late from drinks with a friend.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Original Character(s), Ransom Drysdale/Original Female Character(s), Ransom Drysdale/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	Smoke Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off Tumblr's @star-spangled-steve 's headcanon. If you do not know who they are I heavily suggest looking them up. They are *chef's kiss*
> 
> Also, let me know if you want a part two, because it feels like it could use a second part??? Maybe???
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated and welcomed, thank you all so so much who have left kudos and comments.

You entered the house slowly, carefully shutting the door as quietly as possible. Your hands shook as you locked it behind you, resting your weight on the door. Your core ached, deep and painful as your head spun, tears welling in your eyes. It was late, Ransom was probably in bed. That was probably for the best. You would take a hot shower and then join him. You moved and carefully sat on the couch, resting your head in your hands. It was quiet in the house, almost eerily so.

"Y/n?"

You jumped, looking up. Ransom was at the bottom of the stairs, looking at you concerned. He was wearing his sleepshirt and sweatpants, his hair tousled. You swallowed, folding your hands in your lap. He sat beside you, sleep still in his eyes.

"Hey," your voice cracked as you willed yourself to speak. "You're up late."

"I was asleep when I heard you come in. I texted you, you didn't answer."

 _I got worried_ , his voice added.

"Yeah, I—" A pang shot through your core. You blinked through the pain, a tear slipping past your lashes.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

You let out a slow breath, playing with the ring around your small finger. Guilt pulsated deep in your chest, you thought you were going to be sick. Again. "I broke my phone," you lied.

Ransom sighed, rubbing your back playfully. "We can get you a new phone, babe. Is that what you're so upset about?"

You shrugged, wiping the tears away. "Kinda. . . no."

"Then what is it?" He looked at you intently, waiting for you to answer. You looked to your shoes, a pair of sleek Louboutins, finding a scratch the stare at. Maybe you could have them fixed? You'd hate to throw out a pair of shoes just because of a little— "Y/n?"

"I don't. . . I don't want to talk about it." Your voice was meek, barely that of a whisper. Your eyes stung as you wrapped arms over your chest. "I'm fine, I promise."

"You're crying." Ransom knelt in front of you, holding your hands in his. He frowned, hand coming up to wipe a stream of tears away when he paused. "Is—What is this?"

You looked down at him as his thumb brushed over the bruise forming under your eye. You flinched, recoiled into yourself. Ransom's muscles went taught.

"Did someone hit you?" he asked, all but growling. Your throat closed up and you suddenly found it very hard to speak. You nodded stiffly, feeling him stiffen above you.

"Who?" he snarled. He was angry—angry that someone would touch his girl. Angry that you weren't giving him a name so he could go and snap their _fucking neck._

"Ransom, they—they attacked me," you finally said, letting out a sob. "He put something in my drink, dragged me to the bathroom and—and he attacked me. I couldn't stop him, Ransom, I tried. He hit me when I tried to push him off. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Where was this?" he seethed. At the bar, you told him. Your friend went home with another man, so you were finishing your cocktail when he came up to you and bought you another one. You shouldn't have—you _really_ shouldn't have—but it was a free drink and some company. It wasn't gonna lead to anything.

When? Almost two hours ago. 

When Ransom asked what he looked like, you did the best you could. Your vision was so blurry you couldn't see details. He had dark hair. And glasses. He was wearing dark clothes.

Ransom stood suddenly, grabbing his coat off the railing. You frowned, wiping your cheeks.

"Where are you going?" you asked.

"To go fucking find this guy," he growled. He was angry. He was more than angry. He was seeing red. The fact that someone would even _think_ about hurting you made his blood boil. He was gonna fucking kill them.

"Ransom, please, don't," you sniffled, fear striking in your chest.

"Y/n," he shouted. You flinched. "I'm not just going to sit back and let this son of a bit get away with this!" 

I don't care about that, you say between sobs. Just stay, please. _I need you to stay._

Ransom let out a sigh, hanging his coat up. You let out a breath, relieved as he came back to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you into him. You flinched, tensing under his hold. You felt Ransom swallow, rubbing up and down your arm gently.

"It's okay, baby," he cooed. "You're safe." He kissed the top of your hair as you cried into him. Your sobs rang through his chest, wet his shirt, plagued his mind and he was sure he would have nightmares of this horrid noise. Of your fear. And pain.

After several minutes you calmed down, and after some gentle coaxing he was allowed to carry you to bed, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms anchored around his neck. He laid you down, unzipping your dress. Your underwear was gone, and he swears _if that bastard took them_ —

You called out to him, looking back at him with fear in your eyes. He grabbed you a pair of silk pajamas, the shorts covering the bruises around your hips that looked an _awful lot_ like fingerprints. After asking you if you wanted anything to eat, to drink, he tucked you in. Only after he was sure you didn't. He crawled in next to you, wrapping a careful arm around your mid-drift. You jumped, but soon relaxed under his touch. 

He didn't know what to say, how to tell you he was sorry. Sorry he wasn't there to protect you, sorry that fucker raped you, sorry he was so useless. In your exhausted state, between the drug and the alcohol and the crying, you fell asleep pretty easily, losing yourself in Ransom's warmth. He was always so warm.

He'd help you take a shower in the morning, get you cleaned up. For now, he watched you rest, your chest rising and falling with each breath you took. You were still beautiful, and that bastard couldn't take that away from you.


End file.
